


The Graveyard

by AChiaro



Series: Poetry [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/F, Love, Obsession, Poetry, Rage, Romanticised Violence, delusions of grandeur, freeform poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22391332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AChiaro/pseuds/AChiaro
Summary: This could be a love story between me and you. This could be a story about becoming me and you. A tall tale about who we used to be.Do you want this to be a love story?Be afraid. Keep reading.
Series: Poetry [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653604
Kudos: 8
Collections: Poetry, Poetry Emotion (poetry-in-motion)





	1. Sit Down

**Author's Note:**

> A free-form collection of poems

the rats are scratching at my skull with the heat of the flame  
burning them up, wanting escape —  
I know I have the potential  
all the stories to tell

I could crack myself open and I could burn the world

its harder to speak than to scream or channel an ocean through a straw, but there would be no point  
in what wanton destruction we could wreak  
when the gentle mold can endure, the damage unnoticed,  
the rotting pillars

unrepaired


	2. Infatuation

the woman smiles at me today, black lipstick, hot oil and the drop  
of her attention dancing, springing on the surface

sizzling

(don't get too close, you'll get burned)

I think about the way I could plant flowers in her mouth and mushrooms grow vast forests  
in my ribcage where decay lives

we cut all the flowers last month, vases by the windowsills,  
but the guests never showed

a Leidenfrost heart on the open market — dreams and dust and sharp rose shears

she looks outside the window but I am right here   
all the horizon you could wish for  
and the sunset can't be set on fire for all the love I could want

kindness is how we never touched at all

she sighs and passes and I burn out the thing that could have been,  
set my poison gardens on fire and cough up the rotting dreams

there is wasteland in me, there is smoke on my breath, there are careless hands disturbing the ashes

digging for fertile soil


	3. Chill

I am so tired of the screams and bloody teeth and tearing flesh,

Why can't I tell you of some other pretty things?

I would wax wonderous poetry of coffee cups and kisses,  
a gentle hand and understanding eyes.   
I'd cite my muse, the softness of a blanket gifted by my friends, and stolen candy pressed into waiting hands.

These simple precious things,  
warm glowing light and love,  
a full belly, a chin cradled in your palms.  
These things feel tainted once they're written  
unsaid, spoiled bitter iron, rust within my throat.

Aren't you tired? Let us lay down

And I won't think about the way pain would look gorgeous, dear, on you  
or your hands ecstasy on my throat.

Let us be mild. Remote. Let us say: The tea smells nice,  
so do the roses (so do you).  
The sunshine gentle warmth of dancing in your kitchen,  
feeding each other breakfast waffle bits. You can see it,   
can fill our minds like bleach and scrub away the rot.

Do you know peace now?

Why is there still blood under our fingernails,  
red viscera in the freezing biting snow  
that cushions our violent dreams?


	4. Process

This isn't supposed to be beautiful

Remember the way we mocked the paper at the store, the waste,  
this is like that.  
It is very pretty but beauty truth eludes me and you know that too.  
Ooh, the sound like someone clawing a page black, smearing dirty charcoal fingers without intent. 

Everything is on fire, our children are drowning, you think you can say anything?   
There's always chatter on the line and we are always hacking up laughter.  
Keep it down, keep your head, we'll let you stay if you shut up.

Oh I am a fool but you have sown your mouth shut. 

The past has twisted me like you and one day the rot will show on our skin.   
I'm coughing up spores and think they might sprout flowers.   
You drink hand sanitizer by the bucket but it's set too deep.   
Don't think you'll get clean.

Leaving the room, how irresponsible.

There is nothing wrong with laughter or with revelry and yet,  
after I am skinned and eaten,  
the crowd won't be sated.  
You're up next.  
The feeling will remain.

This isn't supposed to be beautiful.


	5. Hugs

Turn your mind to the destruction we could wreak, water trickling into the cracks and waiting for the frost,   
shattered stone our beds and dust the blanket we hide under to hold each other close   
as the weeds sprout through the asphalt.


	6. Public Transport

This is what they said, their grins crooked and wrinkles in their dress-shirts, they told her they were glad she was alone,   
easier to talk to,   
and the soles of their shoes were eroded with the steady gait, the wrongness of their steps in their bones and  
my throat hurts the way it did yesterday, swallowing sugary gravel and waiting to turn into stone.

I didn't, the earthquake only sloshed me around, a sack with bones and water. My door crumbles away into the gaping empty and I think what a shame, I'll have to hang up a sheet or the wind will kill me. I should have stepped outside then and died with the sun in my face but I woke up instead. Now my lungs are rusty iron and I'm still dragging them around.

Have you seen me, barking behind my white paper muzzle at the men with the wrinkles in their shirts?

Oh how alone we all are.


	7. Exchange for Goods and Services

Psst. Here. Behind  
the curtain, don’t look yet, just listen  
don’t make up your mind  
just off the bone-white grin and the black hole eyes.   
Your friends would scream to find me in your home. 

Listen to me. 

Five steps in your plan: Optimism, Kindness.  
Don’t be foolish.  
Reasoning, Bribery, Extortion. That is just good sense.   


We respect our business partners, even those we love, by baring our blank white teeth.  
Don’t beg, it’s unbecoming, don’t beg. Plead a little. Assume the skeletons feel compassion and their bone-rattle will sound like music.  


Hear it play. Hear it shatter.  


This is what you get for dealing with the dead, dealing behind your time, dealing in black ink and white paper.  
You can’t look yet, the curtain is green and it hides something ugly,  
something necessary. Are you ready?

Make informed decisions. Prepare for resignation.  
If the plan works, never have assumed anything less.    
This is how you survive.


	8. Friends

Resign yourself to a burial under cherished things. Here is everything we need to live, take care of it.   
Wait.   
This glass, this metal is a trap holding you as surely as our hopeful smiles. You don't escape, we let you go. Or not. 

Let us take you far away for wonders, welcome adventure with wide arms. The embrace feels like leaning against the sunbaked cliff.   
You could sleep under crushing boulders if we shift or yawn, tight and cozy. 

Walk along the desert and think of us circling above your head. We'll love you even if you give up.   
No way out, no water near, learn to love us back or die alone out here. 


	9. Future

The smoke that was an empire clogs the holes in your skin and ever so often   
you sigh above your grave, steps away, and only the worms will hear.   
O, remember when we used to dream of open skies, wouldn't it be lovely to believe again.   
But all anyone can see is the plywood hearse and the dirt already piled on top.   
We don't look up, why would we.


	10. Quake

My bed is getting rocked like a cradle, softly, like the very earth is whispering, I'm here, I'm here.   
I don't deserve this comfort like I don't deserve many things I put into my pockets,   
little tainted trinkets that bring me too much joy to sacrifice for men's love or purity of mind.   
If it is foolish to feel this then a fool I must be, juggling all alone and laughing as the ground tremors below.


	11. Dirt Roads

This is a knife whet into a stump.

This is a mask so worn it won't come off.

This is a bag's strap sown on and on again, coming loose.

This is the screaming storm as I trudge the worn path between the mountains, growing hungry.

What a violent descent from the clouds.


	12. Split Ends

Is this the price of greatness - to never curl up in the tiny corners,   
cupboards, cozy spots that life might open. To never be content,  
never experience, not euphoria, not revelry, happiness. The beauty of a moment,   
an occurrence that history forgets. The warmth of insignificance,   
the longing for simplicity - O pure, o clean emotion, bubbles of iridescence  
trapped glittering in our winding scarlet threads.   
Who would wish to grow too big for this - this perfect imperfect end?


	13. Moth

I live in lamplight, I live in the glaring moon,  
I live in the starless sky and the fire that is dead but for the light that still reaches your eyes.

I live in ashes, and smoke, and the glowing embers the moment before you snuff them in the sand.

I live in glorious envy, cloaked in dirt and blood.  
I live in tears, and in grins and in joyless heartfelt laughter.

I am so alive. You will never get rid of me.


	14. After Hours

Bar. Stone. The house is empty and this is a good thing. Rest means inebriation.   
We haven't known anything else, cleaning up after everyone else.   
The memory of a comforting hug is still soft under your shoulders but   
you have long since seen the truth.   
Now here is a man who cracks open the vodka.   
Here is the ice sharp against the glass.   
An unreadable face that I am too tired to crack with an hour remaining.   
These things are real.   
You take a sip and it doesn’t burn the way you thought it would. Something empty in the aftertaste.


	15. Quitting Jobs

This is life on the edge.  
The kiss of cheap wine on my lips.  
Glass shards passed over, brooms to fetch.  
Fear, dread that I know is irrational, for who sees   
the tiny waves of passing ships. 

Skin peeling, leaving rough and torn hands that used to be sweet,  
ruined rags, time and blood poured like salt in the broth,  
dead things in my bag, freely given and taken out of greed.

Never reject an offer,  
never regret anything.

This is a stopgap that swallows you whole with kindness or necessity.  
Leave before it carves itself in too deep  
while you are distracted by flowing wine and golden cigarettes.

You can feel it squirming already, through the cracks in your dry, broken skin.  
Shed kindness, shed empathy, let go of fear and run.  
This is your chance.

Feel the fire licking at your heels, salvation just outside your reach.  
Step on their heads to reach the clouded gate.  
They will do the same.


	16. Bags in Hands

First there is commitment and now we let gold rain on the streets so we might walk.   
The far away sounds beautiful but aren't we there already?  
Everything feels all the same anyway, static and grey-scale.   
My childhood looks like every other street in every other country.

Pumping a ton of gas into the air won't make us happy, it will just fuel the fire next door.   
_But it is only decent to leave once in a while._  
I can be dutiful. I'll commit and then I can freeze to death in peace until the world comes for me again.

Just shut up. I just want some quiet peace.

You need to keep moving fast if you want to see the world for the fire and the flood.   
_Let me drown, let us all drown._   
Do you think you will remember this?

Your memories are treasures in a corner, scratched to hell and full of cobwebs. Are they still of any use?  
Throw them away, clean, make some space. New adventures await, you'll choke.   
_Start again._   
Aren't you excited to leave behind this empty room, trade it for an empty room and an empty village for a city.

Maybe we were meant for emptiness, too, for seeing not for holding, a window that wants to be a vase.  
The only thing we'll be is splinters.

It will hurt to clean us up.


	17. Flirtation

Sitting beside them feels cold,  
and terrible. To interfere with whispers and suspicions. 

There he is, all puppy eyes and boyish grins,  
all screams and cruelty packed away.  
There she is, all forced sparkling smiles and thoughts  
like a mirror in an empty room.

This is what they deserve. This is wrong.   
I stay seated.


	18. It's Complicated

Here are all the things we could be: Kisses that linger. A hand on your cheek.   
Something so warm you won't need a coat.   
Your morning coffee on the counter and a place to come home.

Bitemarks and carved rivers on your back, stinging with passion.   
Fingerprints in red, trailing down your spine.   
I'd kiss the screams out of your mouth and leave flowers behind. 

I could be your scarf, your teapot, your gloves and blade. Twist me, knot me up, pour hot sugar-water down my throat.   
Ditch me in the gutter next to your friends and then blame me for wherever you end up.

Look in the mirror and see me smiling back, everything you could be.   
Make a choice.


	19. All in Time

Here I am, sitting,  
and here I am, waiting. 

My stomach is growing and my joints are stiff and  
here I am, sitting, waiting. 

My plane leaves in fifty-two hours, that’s fifty hours  
before I have to be at the airport so  
forty-eight hours before I get on the train  
thirty hours before I say goodbye to my friends and  
that’s fifteen hours before I give back the key  
to my room and my fridge is full and my clothes are everywhere  
and here I am. 

Sitting.  
Waiting.


	20. Green Dragon

It goes like this.

He is the cruelest man I've met because he just won't set you free.   
He holds your heart in both hands and cradles it, sweet and terribly like he cares.

If he just tore it apart you could stitch the pieces back up, easy and even with practice, almost the way it was and still so blindingly beautiful.   
I could pick it right up.

He guards it like it's his most precious hoard, and I know with every dwindling second it would hurt so much more if he let go. So much more pain than I could ever bear to see you in.

How dare he hold your heart close, hold it like it's worth something, how dare he trap you here with nothing but words and touch.   
He is so much more than he was ever supposed to be.   
How dare he make it so easy to love him   
when you could have been mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! I've done some reorganizing with my poetry, so you can find most of my rhyming poems in a new work called Flower Wallpaper and some of the loosely rhyming poems (Customer Service and Inferno) have been shuffled into Mirrorshard. I hope that will make for a more smooth reading experience with fewer jarring breaks in style.  
> Tell me what you think!


	21. History

O these little things that cloak the beauty in which we walk, conceal the cruel, the callous apathy that stains like red and blooming wine.   
Drip down, drip down, so we may never see the end. 

We are greatness, gods yet marred by mortal specks of dust. Our flaws be contentedness,   
our ugly be daring reaching happiness. Cracks in the glass, the iron mold of legend, of remembrance.   
Things we can fix up with deifying gold. 

We may go and see worms in the mirror, dirt that we will be, our century-old whispers gone from us.   
Hide our truth, our most precious jewel-woven thing, with the footprints we have left in muddy grounds. 

Make diamonds of our teeth, make pearls out of our eyes, make music of our tears.   
What we become to you, this destined glittering calamity shall shield the undiscovered vault within our mundane soul. 

A cupboard full of trash we keep for all the riches in this world.


	22. Gallery

The old man fed me poison that I knowingly accepted   
and smiled as he showed me, explained to me   
all the masterpieces neither of us could hold onto

That one - with the golden cufflinks - he sent me out,   
ants in my veins and a warning to tread softly on the music floors   
lest the knife is turned on me  
The offer he made of assistance burns red holes in my pouch   
I cannot, I will not, there is no space, ignore the hunger  
and his eyes were so unbearably soft

He told me in too-kind voices that he could be my father,   
that he would worry, and we laughed like he did not mean it but   
my head is abuzz with his sugar poison and his shepherd words and the goals   
I delayed for a talk in a space between worlds

There is a future for me but it is not here and I know  
I can never come back   
This face is a time bomb, the kind of beautiful meant for favors,   
just sweet enough for candy and just   
sweet enough to forget

I will not be back when the sky clears and this day will become nothing but   
a colorful memory of when I was child enough   
to mold myself to a thousand forgotten parents   
the cuckoo not yet flown from this city nest   
so easily contained by a giving nature

Witness my decay,   
the hole burn acid in my stomach, the impalement I deserve,   
needles on my tongue and blood slathered on my cheeks   
and a laugh in both our broken throats  
  
Everything we have known we will tear apart  
when I become an equal   
for whom you have no kindness to spare


	23. Hunger

Here is the truth of the matter   
which you already know   
because I am the most important thing to you   
and you love me like a fool.

I would swallow up the world if you let me.

There is no beauty that I don't want to take   
and never look at but   
know it is mine alone, a part of me that makes the mirror almost bearable.

I have green skin boiling over with need,   
black holes for eyes that cannot help but consume   
and the sky for a stomach, a thousand jewel stars that can never block out the dark.

I think I could eat all the stones and the grass, too, on which you thread.

I would crush my ivory teeth on colorful baubles and painted glass   
if I could afford them   
instead, I sit alone but for the lantern fire and the music   
and your taste on my lips.  
I try to make pearls of memories   
to wear those around my neck. 

You have seen my face, my ugly drooling maw   
and you love me with all your heart.


	24. Original

This is the place, this is it, this is where we began.   
Here we are, look around.

Ground Zero.

This is where Eve stabbed me,   
the scars are tender still, and in the moon's harsh light they pull and ache   
until my knees are weak and my eyes are filled with unseen tears because it hurts. 

It hurts so bad.

I never asked for this but   
how can I not understand the way she raised the knife to cut out the chains from our flesh   
tear the film from our eyes just to stare,   
for just a moment, into the blinding terrible sun   
that could never burn out her sight.

Forgiveness tastes like pain and it smells like blood in the air  
and sweetwater tears   
in sunlit eyes.  
  



	25. Fairytale

I can't imagine a happy ending, I can't see it at all.  
What would I do if there was nothing shifting under the surface, if the sky was blue and your smile beyond scrutiny?

I can't even look at you, I don't know who you are   
You don't want me, can't have me, nobody has ever taught me to be loved. Stay away! Save your skin!

There could be a box for us, silent glass and tables we picked together. _I would always keep the fruit bowl stocked, you would always tilt the paintings right._   
No, no, you'd need hooks to reel me into a hug, crowbars to pry my fingers open. It is not possible. 

I can never see your face.  _A kiss on my tired forehead, a smile when I pour your coffee_ , I cannot want these things. I cannot have them. Your kisses aren't something I can bring home without destroying them, don't you get it. I'd crush you, crush the peace, crush the forgotten hope. 

That knowledge of being incapable of being loved, I cannot ever face it at all. I am happy to have the silence for myself but how could I ever go back once I taste sound, the opposite of loneliness. I would ruin it, the happy ending, I would make us fight wars in paradise and dig empty graves in the flowerbeds, just to stay this. 

Just so I will never have to become.   
I can't see it at all. Don't you see the rot inside?

How would it feel, to be precious? Why would I want to be the most important thing to you? Why would I want your chains? 

I am so tired.   
Tell me something about the world I can't have. Tell me about _the butterflies in your eyes and the shameless tears_. Tell me about _kisses with sentences behind them, and truths._   
You could touch me like a diamond, like something you want to keep close. Tell me you think I feel things, tell me you want me to care. 

_There would be a fireplace and my painting on the mantle, and you'd always feel warm. There would be dancing in the kitchen and scratch marks on the walls._ Feed me a grape, tell me you want to stay. 

How scared I am of the flesh you'll tear out of me to make yourself a place in my heart. I have sharkskin and the touch will tear you apart. 

Why am I trembling?   


These fingers cannot touch anything important. There are no matchboxes for us, just the fire.   
I say good-bye and you do not hear. This heart is mine, mine alone, and there is no happy ending.


	26. Crows

my lungs haven't stopped hurting in a month   
and they feel heavy and my head feels weird and tired and fuzzy and —

I've been looking at the sunset again  
it's different every day always so beautiful   
it takes my breath away 

the whole world polished gold  
it's odd but I hadn't realized   
hadn't ever quite known just  
how much I like it here

before


	27. Teddy

Make yourself something they can love.  Pull your teeth out, one by one, and breathe  
open-mouthed gum kisses down your lover's neck, tear out your nails,  
one by one, make yourself safe to touch, a soft and mewling thing, a glittering wreck,  
dig out your eyes, one by one,  until there remains no sharp glint, no cutting lies,  
not one speck of grief, not a wail, give them something harmless, cherished to protect.


	28. Worth Your Fingers

Imagine, if you will, being taught love tastes like blood. Hear the sound of I love you,   
I care for you, I want what is best, my precious one, in the crack of the fist and the crunch of the boot.   
Imagine, if you will, the wincing happiness, bruised ribs repeating, reminding you, I am loved,   
I am adored, with every pained breath.

Imagine.

Imagine knowing such a thing.

There is a woman and she is cruel and she speaks the language of love.   
This secret key, that is written on the painter’s paper skin.

Imagine grinning — chained up, beaten bloody, thrown through glass and crashing to the harsh cold ground —   
tasting love in every bite, every muscle knowing love with every hit, the passion of the fight and   
the pain is not a betrayal   
the way she tears up your chest   
and pulls out your heart   
and takes a bite,   
it is the most glorious thing.

The consumption is an act of love. Imagine knowing this. Imagine being loved this way.

Imagine the love so thick in the air, ever tear cried, every blood-drop spilled,   
every scream and stutter and groan and splinter and hunger and ache, love. Everywhere, love.  
Love, written on all your bones and every inch of your skin until you can’t forget, with every breath, you can't ever forget, just how loved you are.

How in love you are. 

Imagine.


	29. Bible Study

my heart is a lump of coal caked in mud and my eyes  
do not produce any water to show for my humanity,  
the flesh is wretched, the mind is guilty  
and sin takes on a pleasurable second meaning 

prove to yourself that you are the monster because  
you can never be the hero  
and you need to feel important, too  


this is so much easier than going against nature  
or tending a fire in the darkness   
alone


	30. Of Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after steele

of course i want to hold your hand   
kiss rosebud cheeks and curl up content   
take funny pictures of us, live our life, draw our little hearts in the sand

of course i want to rest my head on your lap, of course i want to laugh out loud with our friends   
but listen - there won’t be justice for us

of course I want you to live   
wander freely through the realm of the heart   
and dance on your silver bell laughter

of course I want to hold your hand and get dragged along on adventure   
your ship across the azure sea, your hair tangled in the wind, of course I want to kiss the crystals off your skin

of course I want you to live, of course I want you to smile   
but listen - no life is possible for us

of course I want your revenge, of course I want to be steeped in you   
black lead on my tongue and the heavy heart and   
the exaltations of throwing off righteousness

of course I want that power coursing through my veins   
of course I want us to be more

but listen - the gods are all dead in the legends

of course i want to eat your heart, of course i want you in my shadow’s sweet caress   
of course i want all the dark and thorny things in my soul to love you, too   
of course i want to tear you up so you can never leave

but where would that leave me - alone again


	31. Enemy

oil paintings in heavy golden frames and name brand champagne   
there is a jacket carelessly thrown over a straight-backed hardwood kitchen chair   
that could feed a child for a year in another land and an open box   
of truffles next to my bed and underneath   
it’s full of cobwebs


	32. Pyre

burn it all burn it all down   
she says clothed in red   
and I want to   
heavens I want to   
blaze in the fire of her gaze   
the warm black soot on my skin   
all barriers to our union   
blistering asunder


	33. Wolves

the wolves would deny me  if I wished to howl at the moon yet   
basking in the breeze of your sigh has carried all my guilt away

nothing remains

the treetops keep their harrowed company, the grass blades bend in silent supplications and we   
the rest of us   
rest in the inbetween, untouched

no indifferent clouds will cradle us

all dead and dying eyes of the universe catching a glimpse of our stark-graceless forms   
and no thoughts to their judgement

scattered, the dust we are remains the same as them   
those who have not yet burnt up   
so what would make us less precious

that vision for which you would tear out your eyes,   
is it not one you would forget   
why would you bleed for any mortal sight   
that will never compare to a dream


	34. Magiks

have you begged the witches for moonlight   
fat drops of it running down   
your chin have you asked   
to join their wild and craven dance   
their violent glorious worship of all   
there is beautiful in   
this world 

(it’s not too late)


	35. Want

I want you to love me   
in all the ways you can think of

(in all the ways I want)

bleached finger bones   
delicate finger bones sharp   
little spikes under your nails   
I want it all

(I want it all)

I want the marrow fresh   
from your spine I want   
my blood red and sweet - and poison   
like honey straight from the hive

smearing your hands


	36. Narcissus

the reflection in your eyes   
is in love with me, it whispers   
burning desire from your lips

it gleams through your stained   
glass smile and tears it all out   
all the little imperfections   
all the terrible doubt of your kiss

all yours, always yours, it says   
wearing my face and I know   
I say I know I say yours as well   
always yours, all yours


	37. Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw Animal Death

will you 

sharpen your claws for me   
can you rip   
out your eyeballs and   
all the sweetened soft meats 

if it's for me can you   
learn to skin hares and   
break chicken necks and give   
the good cuts away can you 

love me can you love   
me with nothing will you   
take an empty stomach   
and bloody hands and 

your vows


	38. Lawless

when we run don't bring   
the diamonds or the papers   
let's burn a pyre for   
who we used to be

when we run when we   
leave we'll eat the moss and   
the trees and each   
other down to the roots   
and be satisfied so   
satisfied so happy   
so very free

**Author's Note:**

> Do drop a kudos. I appreciate constructive criticism. Thank you for taking the time to read!


End file.
